Lady of the Autumn Wood
by TraSan
Summary: For over a century she'd made do with the occasional, straggling human wandering through her woods. Tonight, she was feasting on hunters. KazCon auction fic for Nana56.
1. Chapter 1

**Lady of the Autumn Wood**

**Disclaimer: **The brothers, the car, and the concept belong to Kripke et al. The love belongs to us.

**Beta'd: **By Muffy Morrigan. Thank you, girl!

_Special thanks to Carocali! _

**Time Line: **Season 2

**Dedicated: **To Nana56 who graciously bid on me at the KazCon auction, the proceeds of which went to the American Cancer Society in memory of Kim Manners.

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"Dean?"

Sam's voice came to him from underwater.

"Dean, talk to me."

"Hate camping," Dean mumbled.

The earth rumbled with his brother's light chuckle.

"Stop, gonna hurl," Dean protested. The heaving started at his toes, curling his body inwards. Somehow though, he was on his side before the retching began. He panted through the stomach cramps, his mind gradually clearing just enough to remember a flash of claws, Sam in danger and then, black nothingness.

"You done?"

He felt the small circles rubbed between his shoulder blades, his face crumpling in a frown. Sam was comforting him like a colicky baby, and yet, it did seem to be helping. _Suck it up, Winchester. _"What happened?"

"You tell me what you remember," Sam said instead.

Dean cracked his eyes open and lifted his head to glare heatedly at his brother. "Um." He concentrated, trying hard to focus the kaleidoscope of memories into some semblance of order. "We were hunting an asin?"

"Is that a question?" Sam asked, softly.

The world flipped when Sam helped him sit, away from the sick, Dean's back resting against his brother's knees. "No?"

Sam huffed, but Dean could hear the worry behind it. "Do you remember hearing the music?"

He remembered the quiet susurration of autumn leaves in the tree tops, a gentle cry of a bird, and a haunting melody that sounded vaguely like a flute. "I think so."

"We found her, and she wasn't very happy when I shot her with the silver bullets," Sam supplied, apparently taking pity on his muddled brain.

A woman in a brown deerskin, face contorted in anger, fingernails the length of her forearm and in a flash she'd been on Sam, raking her claws along his arm as he spun away. "You were hurt," Dean said, concern lacing the memory. The flare of emotion caused the thumping in his head to increase and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "She got you."

"Just my jacket." Sam shifted behind him. "You stepped between us." His voice sounded scolding and thankful and scared all at once. Dean was going to have to ask him how he did that.

"She," Dean paused, closing his eyes as he tried to remember, "lunged at me, got me across the chest."

"And flung you across the clearing into the tree behind me in the blink of an eye," Sam finished. "Wendigo fast."

"You get her?"

"No."

"Didn't you say she was a cannibal?" Somewhere in his fuzzy memory he was sure that thought existed.

Sam nodded. "According to legend she lures people away with her music and then she eats them."

"Nice girl," Dean smirked, opening his eyes. He focused his blurry vision at the world around him. The shadows were long, the sky a deeper blue with a bright rose-red edge. It wouldn't be long before it was dark.

"Think you can walk if I help?" Sam asked.

The support behind Dean's back edged away and he leaned forward to compensate, resting his head in his hands. Sam's hand never left his shoulder as he moved around Dean to crouch in front of him. "Hey, are you going to be sick again?"

"No," Dean lied. He wasn't at all sure, in fact, it was a distinct possibility. "Help me up?"

Sam narrowed his eyes, and then, seemingly satisfied by what he saw he moved his hand from Dean's shoulder to his upper arm. Before he had a chance to register what was about to happen, Dean was on his feet, swaying slightly. The kid had definitely been eating his Wheaties.

The floor tilted up to meet him and he grasped Sam's jacket. "Whoa, easy, easy," Sam said. "Do you need to sit down again?"

"No, let's move before Ms. Wild and Crazy comes back." He took a tentative step forward bolstered by Sam's strong grip on his arm. Dean smirked, quirking an eyebrow at his brother. "See? No problem."

Sam shifted pulling Dean's arm over his shoulder. "That's great Dean, and based on your height in inches, multiplied by .415 for stride length, divided by two…" Sam's voice trailed off as he continued the math in his head, "you only have fifteen thousand and eighty-six steps left to the car."

Dean's expression changed from crinkled confusion to a wide grin in spite of his pounding headache. "Geek."

A momentary look of hurt crossed Sam's face before morphing into dimples. "Whatever, man."

"Seriously, Sam, you can do the math in your head and you still can't string together two words to a beautiful woman." Dean stumbled in the growing darkness, a groan sliding past his lips as the movement sent white-hot pain into his head.

Sam didn't break stride or loosen his hold on Dean as he fished into his bag for the flashlight. "Her name was Julie and I did too."

"Not intelligent words," Dean said. His toes caught a root hidden underneath fallen leaves. This time sparkles appeared in his vision and he felt his knees buckle, held upright only by Sam's hand on his chest.

Sam's eyes widened in shock and he shined the light on his hand, then looked at Dean with growing horror. It was all the warning he received before Sam kicked his legs out from under him and then contradictorily gently eased him to the ground. Large hands pawed at his shirt.

"What the hell?" Dean asked. He tried to capture his brother's hands, but Sam's movements were too fast for his blurry vision. Finally he snagged one of the other man's wrists. "Sam!"

"Dean, you're bleeding," Sam said, his voice edged with a hint of panic. "I didn't check. I should have checked."

Dean released his hold on Sam's wrist and a moment later chestnut hair was in his face as his brother examined his chest. He shivered as the chilling mountain breeze skimmed his skin. It was going to be a cold night. The heavy, yellow harvest moon rose large and close, just edging up past the top of the trees. It looked like he could reach out and touch it, the rabbit clearly visible on the moon's surface. Light music wafted past, encircling them from all directions.

Freezing water hit his chest and he gasped first from shock and then burning pain as the icy water lit his skin on fire. "Agh, Sam!"

"Sorry, holy water," Sam explained, splashing more of it onto Dean's skin.

"A little warning maybe?" Dean grumbled through the next wave of fire.

"I did." Sam moved a hand to Dean's forehead. "Didn't you hear me?"

"No." He shifted onto his elbows trying to see his chest.

"You have a fever," Sam said, making eye contact with him. "You didn't feel these scratches before? One of them is pretty deep."

He'd felt the throbbing in his head, the aching in his back, hips, and left wrist from colliding with the tree and ground respectively. He'd even felt the abraded skin on his back from sliding down the rough bark, but until Sam had mentioned it the scratches on his chest hadn't bothered him at all.

"No, not really."

The curling worry in Sam's brow sank deeper into his forehead. A couple of gauze pads and copious amounts of tape later, Dean's shirt was carefully lowered. Sam twisted to put the supplies back in the duffel. "Leave it alone."

Dean's hand froze mid-scratch. "You're not the boss of me."

Sam twisted around to smile in his direction. "In this particular case, I am. Get over it."

Dean opened his mouth to retort when Sam glanced around, slowly pulling out a knife from his belt sheath. Dean cocked his head in question, but his brother ignored him, rising quietly from a crouch to standing. Sam stood perfectly still, obviously listening to the forest around them, searching for something.

Crickets chirping mingled with the earthy scent of moss and bark, slipping around them like a comfortable blanket. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled its lonely cry to the end of summer. A soft, rhythmic melody whispered through the trees, singing through Dean's veins, all other sounds falling into the background.

Rough hands gripped his arms painfully and Sam's face was so close to his that Dean could see the worry in the hazel depths. "Dean!"

The wolf's sharp barking echoed off the trees.

"Sam, what the hell?" Dean pushed himself up to sitting, brushing off his brother's punishing grip. He pushed with his feet until he back rested against a tree, hissing when sensitive scrapes met rough wood. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Sam asked, quietly. He took two steps forward, crouching low to Dean's face again. Hazel eyes sparked with frustration and concern. "What's wrong with _you_?"

Dean winced at the volume of his brother's voice hiding the worry behind the words. "What happened?"

Sam deflated in front of his eyes, shoulders dropping, the tight line of his lips turning down into a frown. "You were non-responsive, nearly catatonic." He twisted, sitting down next to Dean. "It's like you were in some sort of trance or spell."

"The asin?"

"That's my guess." Sam sighed, the quiet exhale lasting longer than usual. "Dean, I don't like this. We need to get out of here, regroup and come back at this thing later."

"It's not like we weren't trying." Dean shivered in the cold air, vision darkening from the movement.

"Hey, hey," Sam said. "No passing out now."

"I think it's too late," Dean mumbled, as awareness slipped further away.

In the distance, the wolf howled again and the scratches on his chest burned in response as the world slipped away.

_TBC_

………………………………………………………………**Supernatural**…………………………………………………....

AN: Well, Nana, here's the first part of your story! Finally. Phew.


	2. Chapter 2

**Lady of the Autumn Wood**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**Beta'd: ** By Muffy Morrigan with special thanks to Carocali!

**Time Line: **Season 2

**Dedicated: **To Nana56 – who totally owes me Chicago Con gossip! LOL

……………………………………………………………**Chapter 2**……………………………………………………………..

Sam settled Dean's head against his shoulder. He needed a minute or two to assess the situation and decide on a course of action. There was no way he could carry his brother the over three miles left to the car. Dean moaned, his hand fluttering up to his chest and Sam pulled it away. Staying here didn't seem to be the best idea, but what choice did he have? Until Dean woke up, his options were limited at best.

He shucked his jacket, shivering in the cold air. He'd be fine for awhile, maybe even warm as he gathered wood. In the meantime, Dean's battered head wouldn't be resting on the heat-sucking, damp ground. Sam pulled the duffel closer, leaving it within reach of his brother. Maglite in hand he quickly gathered kindling and a few larger branches to start a fire. They never really planned on wilderness all-nighters, but the Zippo was good for more than a salt and burn.

Dried leaves and moss made a perfect, if smoky, starter and soon a crackling fire fought back the darkness. Keeping Dean between the fire and himself, Sam scanned the area. He couldn't fight the feeling that the asin was out there, just past his ability to see, waiting for her chance. He rested a hand protectively on Dean's shoulder, then to his forehead checking for fever heat. She wasn't getting his brother, not on his watch.

Dean stirred restlessly under his hand. "Dean?" Sam asked.

"Dad?"

Ouch, that one stung. Sam didn't want to have to tell Dean about their father, not like this. "Dean, it's me."

"Sammy?" Dean's eyes fluttered open and he went from barely aware to lethal in five seconds flat. He sat up, fevered eyes darting about the woods. "Sam, she's here."

"I know," Sam said, capturing Dean's arm. "We'll get her." He retrieved his jacket, sliding it on. The temperature was cold and heading down. He scooted closer to his brother. "Dean, hey, how's the head?"

"Still hurts," Dean growled. He reached up to feel the back of his head with a shaky hand. "It's cold. Fire feels good."

"You have a fever," Sam said. He dug into the duffel for the painkillers and gave Dean two along with a half-full bottle of water. "Here, take these."

"I'm fine." Dean scowled, but took the pills anyway, downing them with a swig of water. He glanced around at the dark woods. "What's she waiting for?"

"I think for me to let my guard down," Sam said. He stood, stepping over Dean to add another branch to the fire. "She's LoJacked you somehow."

Dean nodded, his eyes drawn inward in thought. "Her music."

"You hear it?" Sam asked, his pitch rising with his concern. "Now?"

"Not right now, but yeah, I have," Dean said. "It blends in with the sounds of everything else around here."

Sam thrust his chin in Dean's direction. "You mean the regular sounds are the music or they cover it up?"

"More like, they're an accompaniment." Dean crossed his arms, hugging himself for warmth.

The brothers paused, each listening. Sam heard the light breeze through the dying leaves and the questioning hoot of an owl answered by a lone wolf. He saw the moment Dean's face paled and his expression went blank. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his knife. The bullets hadn't worked, maybe because she was an ancient creature, mortal only to the weapons of her era. This time, he'd use the iron knife.

Dean shifted, suddenly moving when before he'd been held captive in the melody only he could hear. Sam was beside him in an instant, one hand wrapped tightly around his brother's forearm, the other holding his weapon.

"Dean," he said, trying to garner his brother's attention.

Dean didn't respond past tugging weakly on his arm to gain his freedom.

He'd lost Jessica, they'd lost their parents, there was no way in hell was Sam losing his brother, too. "Dean!" He squeezed his brother's arm in desperation.

"Sammy?" Dean blinked recognition back into his eyes.

"Dean, sit down before you fall down and let me handle this," Sam said. His brother's gaze slowly changed from confusion to furrowed brow annoyance as he processed Sam's words. "Please, let me handle this."

Indecision chased across Dean's face as his hand hovered inside his jacket, no doubt reaching for his gun. "You need back up."

"Not this time," Sam said. "I need you to stay here."

"I can't just sit here while you're out killing this thing." Dean's eyes were glassy from fever, his face pale, but it didn't stop the Winchester stubborn streak. Sam supposed he couldn't blame his brother. They were genetically predisposed to pig-headedness.

He sighed, knowing he was quickly losing the battle to keep his take-action brother side-lined. It was time to pull out the heavy hitters. "What if she can control you somehow and uses you against me?"

Dean frowned, his determined look fading. "That's dirty pool, Sam."

"Whatever works," Sam said, unrepentant. "I'm just going to scout the area. I mean it. I won't even be out of sight, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Dean eased himself to the ground, positioning himself close the fire. Sam resisted the urge to check for fever. While Dean was asleep was one thing, but there was no way that type of hovering would be acceptable to his brother when he was awake.

Sam moved to the far side of the fire waiting several moments until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The asin had the upper hand that much was certain. They were in her territory and she was better equipped for the terrain and the darkness. It reminded him of the Wendigo hunt without the benefit of the ancient symbols to keep their makeshift campsite safe.

He scanned the surrounding trees, the light of the full moon creating shadows that danced in rhythm with the tree branches adding confusion to the quiet landscape. He could sense the asin, he was sure of it, but there was no way he was leaving Dean alone to go out chasing after her. She was fast, much faster than him and she could double back around and get to his brother before Sam would have time to react.

Muffled sounds behind him had Sam spinning around on instinct. It wasn't hunter's instinct it seemed, but the brotherly kind. Dean was unconscious again, one foot jumping spasmodically, fingers twisting in the brittle pine needles and decomposed granite on the ground. "Dean!"

Sam ran, skidding to a stop behind his brother. He sat behind Dean, pulling him close to his chest so Sam could hold him in a makeshift hug, keeping Dean's hands still. Muscle spasms chased up and down his brother's body. It wasn't a seizure, it was more like Dean was trying to shake loose of his skin.

"Come on, hang in there," Sam fervently whispered. "Are you going to let that crone take you down?" It had to be the wounds from the asin causing Dean's rising fever and the muscle spasms. There wasn't any sign of internal bleeding and concussions didn't cause fevers. The likeliest culprit remained the scratches and the holy water hadn't negated the effect, just slowed it down.

The muscle contractions stopped and Dean quieted, his head falling back against Sam's chest, anxious fingers stilling. Fever heat burned through layers of clothing, but Dean was breathing easier now.

A twig snapped from somewhere behind him and Sam picked up his discarded knife. He didn't ease out from behind his brother; he just tensed, preparing to defend. Blade in hand he held it up at the ready when a shadowy presence appeared in his peripheral vision. The melodic voice took him by surprise. "These woods are dangerous at night."

She was beautiful, long dark hair, tawny eyes that matched the color of her supple skin dress. She stared at his knife with wide-eyed feigned fear. Sam wasn't fooled, no matter what form she chose to wear, the asin wasn't making it through another night. "So, I've heard," he gritted out.

Keeping her in his sights, Sam moved from behind Dean and stood. The asin's glinting eyes hadn't left Dean's prone position and he shifted to stand between them. "You are both fine warriors, I would have been delighted with either of you." She reached out, fingers ghosting over the tears in Sam's jacket even as he twisted out of range. A smile tugged at her lips and she dropped her hand. "You have nothing to fear. I only need one of you and he interceded on your behalf."

Sam held the knife in a sure, comfortable grip. "Well, now it's my turn and you can't have him."

She sidled around him, her footsteps silent on the forest floor. The asin tilted her head, curiously regarding Sam as if he were an interesting bug to be squashed. "He belongs to me," she hissed, her fingernails extending, teeth growing longer.

"He's my brother," Sam said, staking claim with a definitive tone. He steadied his stance, adjusted his grip on the knife. He squared his shoulders, trying to look as imposing as he could. If the asin wanted Dean, she had a fight on her hands.

A tiny smile was the only warning he received before she lunged past him, moving so fast Sam could barely see. The asin's sharp claws easily ripped through Dean's jeans, hooking into the meat of his calf. Dean's eyes popped open, glassy greens darting about in confusion as a howl of agony reverberated off the trees.

Sam growled a primal, angry sound and thrust his blade deep into the asin's back, tilting it upwards. Blood slicked the knife and he adjusted his grip on the hilt. He couldn't afford to let the asin get away again, not with Dean's life hanging in the balance. Even as he wrapped an arm around her neck for better leverage she released Dean's leg and twisted away. The asin panted shallowly, saliva dripping from her mouth. All intelligence had been wiped from her eyes, leaving only animal rage. She made an odd barking noise in the back of her throat, nostrils flaring as she regarded Sam.

She circled around him and he compensated, trying once again to keep himself between the asin and his brother. Dean was groaning, small sounds of pain and yes, fear, that made it hard for Sam to concentrate, to feel anything other than rage. Apparently the asin felt the same way because her next move was communicated with enough time for him to react. As she lunged for Dean, Sam drove his knife home, deep into her chest, aiming for her heart. The asin howled.

From somewhere near the rising moon, a wolf answered, howling out its sadness in a long cry.

Sam followed her to the ground, pressing the knife in deeper. In a desperate attempt to free herself, the asin plunged long claws into his upper arm. She bucked and twisted in a frantic, last-ditch attempt at freedom. Fear gave her strength as she fought against his punishing hold.

Sam snarled, pushing her down until he was practically lying on top of her, adding his weight to the pressure on the knife. The last few throes were more a show of defiance than a true struggle for survival. As the light faded from her eyes, her claws retracted and her hand fell away to the ground. Only once the asin lay completely still did Sam risk looking up, his eyes searching out his brother.

Dean's eyes were closed, his breath coming out in short, pained pants. The denim on one leg of his jeans was painted crimson, the material shredded. The crackling fire cast flickering shadows across his pale face, freckles standing out in stark relief. Sam swallowed back his fear for Dean and slowly rose to his feet.

As much as he wanted to help his brother, the threat had to be eliminated completely first. He staggered to the weapons bag, his hands finding the familiar feel of the machete without difficulty. Sam lifted the weapon and walked back to the motionless creature. Using all the strength he had left, he brought the blade crashing down, neatly decapitating the asin with a single blow. Chest heaving from effort and spent adrenaline, Sam retrieved his iron blade from the asin's body and wiped the blood on his torn jacket before returning it to its sheath.

Sam stumbled back to his brother, dropping the machete shortly before he all but fell to his knees at Dean's head. "Dean," Sam said, placing red-stained fingers on the other man's neck. "Dean, wake up." He drew in a shaky breath and whispered out a prayer. "Please."

_TBC_

…………………………………………………**.Supernatural……………………………………………**

AN: For those of you who asked, yes, I really did the math in the first chapter to figure out how many steps it would take Dean to travel the 4.2 miles to the Impala. Did the research, built a spreadsheet and everything. LOL. I wear the geek crown with pride.

Incidentally, all things being equal, Sam would get to the car 514 steps before Dean.


	3. Chapter 3

**Lady of the Autumn Wood**

**Disclaimer: **Fine. They belong to Kripke. Bah!

**Beta'd: **By Muffy Morrigan

**Time Line: **Season 2

**Dedicated: **To Nana56!

………………...…………………………………….**Chapter Three**………………………………………………………..

He was freezing, a warm presence at his back. Even without opening his eyes Dean knew the crackles, pops, and distinctive odor was the wood smoke of a campfire. The heavy weight across his chest took a second longer to place, but once he realized Sam was plastered up against him, the Sasquatch arm was easy enough to identify. There was no way he was admitting Sam was cuddled up behind him though, and Dean's head was definitely not resting on his brother's other arm. Nope. Never happened.

He shifted and the weight instantly disappeared. "Dean?"

"Yeah." The grating hoarseness in his voice took him by surprise and he cleared his throat. He ignored the hand pressed briefly on his forehead. "What happened?"

"She's gone."

"Good." Dean cracked his eyes open, focusing blurry vision on his surroundings. A thin line of yellowish-pink edged the horizon, while above him the stars twinkled merrily. He shivered hard, the motion sending electric pulses through his throbbing head. Two fires burned brightly nearby. Sam had obviously taken the time to salt and burn the asin.

"How's your leg?" Sam asked, easing out from behind him.

"Leg?" Dean asked, attempting to prop himself up on his elbows. His chest screamed in protest. He fell back, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing heavily through his nose. "Ow."

"Ow." Sam's voice sounded worried, yet slightly amused. "Stub your toe on the dresser last week and you use every word in your swear book. Ancient, cannibalistic she-wolf scratches your chest and sinks her claws into your leg and all you say is 'ow?'"

Dean opened his eyes to glare at his brother. "What of it?"

Sam raised his hands in supplication. "Nothing." A grin broke across his face, dimples sinking into his cheeks. "Just making an observation."

Dean puffed in annoyance, and tried once again to raise himself onto his elbows to get a better look at his leg. A warm hand against his back helped push him to sitting. The denim was a total loss, shredded and blood-stained from cuff to knee on the left side. At least it was the leg he'd already injured during his previous run in with the asin. Spots of blood seeped through the bandage wrapped gauze pads, but it didn't hurt. "Huh."

This time it was Sam who huffed with impatience. "Huh what, Captain Understatement?"

"My leg doesn't hurt." Dean twisted to look at Sam, hissing when the scratches on his chest and bruises on his back pulled tight. "It should hurt."

Sam's furrowed brow of confusion changed to wrinkles of concern as he sat forward to poke Dean's leg carefully. "As much as I'm glad to hear it isn't hurting, you're right. It should." Sam continued muttering more to himself than to Dean as he fished a roll of bandages and gauze out of the bag. "I'm just glad the fever broke. There for awhile I thought…" he trailed off when he finished removing the old bandages and leaned in to take a closer look at the puncture wounds.

Dean watched as his brother doused the wound in holy water. The wounds sizzled and fizzed, rust-colored bubbles foaming up and running off his leg. It stung, but no worse than a bad razor nick. As Sam bandaged the injury, Dean caught sight of a dark splotch of color on his brother's jacket. He couldn't quite tell the color in the shadowed, pre-dawn hour, but he had his suspicions.

"You lied to me." It came out as a growl.

Sam started, momentarily jolted from the job at hand. "What?" Sam sounded genuinely confused and Dean paused for a moment.

"You said she didn't get you, just the coat."

"She didn't." Sam shook his head in protest, returning to wrapping the bandaging snugly around Dean's leg.

"What's that on your sleeve then?" Dean asked, as Sam re-packed the bag.

Sam stopped, fingers pulling on the material of his coat until he could see the stain. "Huh."

Dean rolled his eyes. Maybe Sam did have a reason to be annoyed with him. "So, care to explain?"

"I forgot," Sam said, with a shoulder shrug.

"You forgot?" Dean said, disbelief lacing his tone.

"Yeah, I forgot," Sam said. He leapt to his feet, pacing a tight line between Dean and the nearest tree. Sam stopped near him, but stared at the ground refusing to make eye contact. His chest heaved as he clearly fought to control his emotions. "I had a couple of other things on my mind," he said quietly.

Dean looked past his brother to the dying embers of the asin fire, his gaze falling to his bandaged leg, a hand hovering over his aching chest. He remembered the way Sam had felt for fever, and how desperately cold it was now that his brother wasn't offering shared body heat. Suddenly he could see Sam's night with more clarity. It was one thing to be hurt, it was quite another to be the one left worrying. He'd been in the same spot enough times to know.

"Yeah, I know you did."

Sam looked up, relief evident on his face.

"You did good, Sammy."

A simple phrase and one Sam would have rolled his eyes at in a different situation perhaps, but Dean meant the words and it seemed his brother understood. A grateful smile lit Sam's face.

"Thanks," Sam said, ducking his head when a humbling blush crept up his neck and cheeks. He rifled through the bag, twisting to wordlessly offer Dean a protein bar. He nodded and caught the red, foil-wrapped snack as it arced through air in his direction.

Dean crooked two fingers at his brother, gesturing him closer. A gentle tug on Sam's arm and he was crouching next Dean. His quick examination revealed scratches with blood streaks from deltoid to wrist. The bleeding had stopped long ago, but the abrasions appeared fresh and wet, not scabbing over. "Hand me the holy water."

"There's not much left," Sam said, using his long reach to deftly snag the silver flask. "Don't use it all."

Dean raised an eyebrow, daring Sam to say another word. Luckily, the younger man seemed to know how close he was treading to a lecture. Sam pulled his arm out of his jacket sleeve in preparation, and only jerked once when Dean poured the holy water on his arm. Loose bandages finished the job.

Sam appeared lost in thought as he mindlessly threaded his arm back into his jacket sleeve. "Her claws might have an analgesic effect," he said, taking the bandages and flask from Dean and tossing them into the bag. "She can deliver a killing blow and then merely follow the blood trail to wherever her prey drops dead. The fever would slow them down so they probably never got far."

"Kind of overkill considering how fast she moved," Dean said.

"No kidding," Sam agreed. He tore open his protein bar, eating almost half of it in one bite. Dean raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. Sam shook his bar at Dean for emphasis. "You know, if it wasn't for your snack stash we would have any breakfast."

"Hey, yeah, fork over the jerky," Dean said.

"It's for lunch," Sam said, zipping up the duffel to signal the end of the conversation.

"I don't know about you, but I plan to be at a diner at lunchtime, not eating jerky out of a duffel bag," Dean said.

"It might be slow going," Sam cautioned. "Your leg's in pretty bad shape, Dean."

"Then we should start now, before feeling comes back." Dean struggled to stand, nearly toppling backwards, but Sam was there to stop him. In one swift motion, he was on his feet supported by his brother. "I got it."

"I know you do," Sam said, but his grip on Dean's elbow didn't loosen. Sam reached down for the bag, slinging it over his shoulder without missing a step. "We better get a move on if you want lunch in town."

Dean took a tentative step, his leg oddly numb. "See? No problem."

"That's what you said last time," Sam said, his grip tightening around Dean's arm as they slowly made their way away from the smoldering fires.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

He should feel elated. The hunt was over, his brother was safe, but all Sam could think about was how far it was to the car and if Dean's leg would remain blissfully pain-free until they got there. He tested his arm, feeling the pull of the bandages against skin, but nothing else. Good, as long as his arm was numb, so was his brother's leg. "It's still pretty dark, so we need to be careful," Sam said.

"Sam, I'm fine."

"Sure, right."

"I _am_."

Sam snorted in disbelief. "Dean, it's not like that means anything other than you aren't dying and, even then, I'm not positive."

Dean rolled his eyes, but didn't offer a defense. His knee buckled on the next step, and it was only Sam's arm hooked under his that kept him from falling. Dean swayed slightly on his feet, but Sam didn't release his hold offering silent support. With his free hand, Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Headache?" Sam asked with a frown. The crack to Dean's head yesterday had no doubt resulted in a mild concussion or at the very least left his brother with a killer headache and dubious equilibrium.

"More like the earth is rotating too fast," Dean admitted.

"We'll go slow," Sam said, reaching down to snag the duffel.

"I don't think we have another choice," Dean said, eyebrows pinched together in pain.

"Come on, hop-a-long," Sam said, nudging his brother forward. "We'll warm up if we start moving." Dean laughed, a genuine chortle of amusement. "What?"

"Nothing," Dean said, waving a hand when Sam tilted his head and pursed his lips in annoyance. "Nothing, I swear, except you sounded like dad just now and you always hated when he said that."

Sam chuckled, hitching Dean up further by his elbow. "That's because it always preceded sparring, or a workout, or digging out a grave or something and he tried to make it sound like a good thing."

"As opposed to this how?" Dean asked, his leg shaking momentarily before he steadied himself.

"We're just two brothers out for a morning stroll through the woods," Sam dead-panned.

"Dude," Dean said with a smirk, "you are such a freak."

"A freak who could totally take you right now," Sam shot back. "I'd watch it if I were you."

They continued in near silence for almost two miles before the fog started rolling in. Other-worldly fingers crept through the trees attempting to touch the only humans for miles. The misty fog penetrated deep, biting cold and clinging to their bones. Sam knew the sun was rising not because he could see it through the dense surroundings, but because the darkness was receding.

He felt Dean shivering and hoped desperately it wasn't the fever returning. "You okay?"

"Stop asking me," Dean said, his tone carrying an edge to it. "I'm fine."

Sam stopped, pulling his brother to a halt beside him. "Your leg hurting?"

"Been better," Dean said. "It's not numb any more."

Sam eased his brother to sit on a rotting fallen log ignoring the minor protest. He dropped the duffel to the ground, crouching low to look at Dean's leg. Fog rolled off one of the surrounding hills like a misty waterfall. From somewhere in the dense white covering, a wolf barked. It sounded close by, but Sam focused his attention on his brother.

Sam carefully unwound the bandages around Dean's leg stopping only briefly when he noticed fresh blood seeping through the inner gauze pads. The puncture wounds were red, a slow trickle of blood oozing from each one. The decaying scent of infection was impossible to miss. He swallowed hard, rummaging through the first aid kit for disinfectant. It was time to treat the biological aspects of the injury instead of the supernatural cause.

"This is going to sting a little," Sam said, offering a puckered grimace by way of apology.

"Just do it," Dean said through gritted teeth.

Sam nodded, pouring disinfectant on the wounds. He winced in sympathy when Dean jerked his leg, growling low under his breath. Strong fingers latched onto his shoulder, tightening momentarily as the pain peaked and then dropped away.

"Son of a bitch," Dean whispered. He squirmed as the last of the cold liquid ran clear.

Sam deftly wrapped Dean's leg, mindful of the pain he knew he was causing his brother. As he finished packing the last of the dwindling supply of bandages back into the first aid kit, he heard a low growl from somewhere behind him.

He felt Dean tense, heard the rustle of cotton as he slowly reaching for his weapon. "Dean?"

"Sammy, don't move," Dean said quietly.

_Like hell. _"What is it?" Sam asked. He mentally chastised himself for not considering the possibility of a second asin. "Is it another one?"

"No."

Sam was momentarily relieved knowing they wouldn't have to face such a formidable creature when his brother was the worse for wear. The feeling quickly changed, however, when the beast growled again. What it was didn't really matter, he guessed, it still seemed to want them dead.

"Dean?" He reached for the iron knife sheathed at his waist. It wasn't a very effective weapon against a wild animal, but it was all he had currently at his disposal. Sam looked up, noting the look of fierce determination on Dean's face. He couldn't let his brother square off against the predator, he'd been burning up with fever only a few hours ago and now he was well on his way back to being seriously ill from infection.

He slowly stood, doing his best to ignore the scowl on Dean's face. "Sam, stay down."

"I got this, Dean."

Sam turned, peering out into the fog. He didn't have long to wait. An enormous wolf stepped out of the swirling gray mist. Sitting down on its haunches it lifted its muzzle towards the sky and howled. Sam tightened his grip on the hilt of the knife.

Without warning the wolf sprang forward, teeth bared and snarling as it attacked.

_TBC_

……………………………………………………..……**Supernatural**………..…………………………………………….

AN: Well, Nana therein lays the root of your request. Hurt!Dean, Protective!Sam, in the woods on a cold night. I took the scenic path, but I did get there!


	4. Chapter 4

**Lady of the Autumn Wood**

**Disclaimer: **Fine. They belong to Kripke. Bah!

**Beta'd: **By Muffy Morrigan. Many thanks, girl!

**Time Line: **Season 2

**Dedicated: **To Nana56!

………………...…………………………………….**Chapter Four**………………………………………………………..

"Sammy, look out!"

Sam heard the shout from his brother as he tensed for impact. The wolf was large, larger than he realized and all muscle. When the lupine hit his chest, Sam flew backwards landing against the log where Dean sat, all the air escaping from his lungs in one loud whoosh. It took both hands wrapped around the wolf's muzzle and hanging on with all his strength to keep sharp teeth away from his neck.

Claws ripped at his clothing as Sam fought to toss the wolf to the ground. He threw one long leg over the wolf's haunches, twisting his hip until the heavy animal hit the hard earth. He allowed the momentum to carry him up until he was over the wolf. The problem now was it took two hands to keep the snapping jaw contained leaving him a hand shy to use his knife.

The wolf writhed on the ground, working free of Sam's grip. It ran a few feet away, then spun around to launch itself at the hunter again. He pushed up, preparing to clamber to his feet when Dean shouted at him. "Sam, down!"

Sam dropped to his belly as three loud shots sounded, the wolf's sharp cry following. He stayed where he was, watching the lupine disappear into the woods as he tried to catch his breath. Finally, he arched his back, sliding up to his hands and knees, and then rocked until he was sitting on his heels. Sam twisted to look at his brother as he stood.

Dean was still standing in a shooter's stance, the gun hanging loosely by his side. His mossy green eyes trained on the horizon, waiting, determined to make sure the threat was gone before he relaxed. Bright spots of blood seeped through the new bandages. His gaze moved from the trees to Sam.

"Sam, what the hell were you thinking?" Dean shouted, his voice echoing off the trees.

"Dean, sit down, you're bleeding all over the place!" Sam shouted, simultaneously. He splayed a hand on Dean's chest, gently shoving him down onto the log, following the motion until he was crouched at his brother's feet.

"It isn't coagulating the way it should," Sam muttered, as he reached for the last of the bandages. He was completely absorbed in the task at hand and it took awhile for Dean's penetrating glare to heat his scalp enough to look up. "What?"

Dean's face scrunched into a mixture of glowering brows and thin-lipped frown. "What the _hell _were you thinking tangling with a wolf armed only with a knife?" he repeated, the quiet question belying the anger and fear behind it.

"I'm fine," Sam said, with a shrug.

"Sam," Dean growled, his volume growing again.

"I was thinking, 'Don't eat my brother!' all right?" Sam snapped. "Now, hold still and let me finish this." The silence was heavy and when Sam looked up, Dean was smirking. He dipped his head to hide his embarrassment. "Shut up."

"I'm not saying anything," Dean said with a smile in his voice. There was a pause before he added, "You know, it's not like a wolf to hunt alone or to attack humans."

"I don't think he was an ordinary wolf," Sam said, stopping his ministrations to make eye contact with his brother. "Part of the legend of the asin is how she mated with a wolf."

"That makes sense, he wouldn't be the first guy to want revenge on the person or thing responsible for his mate's death."

Sam looked up, frowning at Dean's thinly-veiled concern. He was supposed to be taking care of Dean right now, not the other way around. His brother was the one who was injured. So, like water, Sam flowed along the path of least resistance and ignored the statement entirely. "Their children are said to run wild with the creatures of the woods until adolescence when one of them turns into an asin, the others remaining with the pack."

"There's something just so wrong about that," Dean said, shaking his head in disgust. "You don't think they had any kids, do you?"

Sam glanced back in the direction the wolf had gone, returning his gaze to his brother. "I hope not. We'd never be able to tell them apart from other wolves right now."

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face, shaking his head. "Guess we'll just have to add checking out this forest for a new asin to our to-do list in, huh, how long would say? Wolves hit their terrible teens somewhere around nine months?"

Sam nodded, tying off the last bandage. He moved to a spot on the log next to Dean. "Yeah, I guess, but if they did have pups we have no way of knowing how old they'd already be and maybe the hybrids age more like the asin who lives over a hundred years."

Dean sighed heavily. "Well that sucks."

Sam puffed a laugh, clapping his brother softly on the shoulder. "Yeah, it kind of does."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, the wince on his face indicative of the headache he was nursing. His stomach rumbled. "We're never going to make lunch at this rate," he moaned.

"Seriously, you're hungry?" Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Do you want some jerky now?"

"Nah, I can wait," Dean said, although his tone suggested otherwise.

"Ready to head out?"

"Definitely."

Sam stood, hefting Dean to his feet. The going was slower than he'd anticipated. The fog began to burn off as they picked their way through the thinning forest. Occasionally, one of them would stumble on a hidden root, or the other would get scratched by low hanging branches, but the journey was otherwise uneventful.

Conversation shifted from the hunt, to an incident in their childhood involving burned macaroni and the neighbor's dog, back to Sam's personal least favorite, which one of them was responsible for the crack in Pastor Jim's glass sliding door that one summer.

Sam frowned as his brother grew increasingly dependent on him. Dean was leaning heavily against him, sweat running down his hairline and disappearing under the collar of his jacket. "We're almost there," Sam said as the outline of the black car appeared through the last of the foggy mist.

"Awesome," Dean said, without any true enthusiasm.

Sam spared a glance at his brother, noting the pale face. "It's only two, we'll be able to eat a real dinner at least," he said, helping Dean the final few steps.

"Right now I'd be happy with anything," Dean said. He stroked the side of the Impala. "There you are, baby."

"Need a minute alone?" Sam asked, eyebrow climbing up to hide in his bangs.

"Maybe later," Dean said. He slid into the passenger seat, groaning as Sam helped him lift his injured leg into the car.

Sam tossed the duffel into the trunk on his way back around to the driver's side. Sliding onto the seat he started the engine, the big car rumbling to life. "First stop's a pharmacy. We need a few supplies."

"First stop's a drive thru," Dean contradicted him.

Sam gave Dean a pointed look, dropping his gaze to his brother's leg and back up. "No."

"Sam," Dean growled a warning.

"It's not going to work," Sam said, throwing the car into drive and starting down the gravel road. "Supplies first. I'll try to find a one-stop shopping area and I'll grab you chips or something while I'm in there."

"Deal." Dean leaned back, balancing his head against the back of the seat and the window. "You know, this isn't actually all that comfortable."

"Tell me about it," Sam grumbled under his breath. "You get used to it."

"Mmm," Dean hummed, not bothering to open his eyes.

Sam glanced over at his brother and chuckled fondly. Dean's ability to sleep anywhere was an impressive skill. "Get some sleep, bro."

-0-0-

A quick stop at a local Target for supplies while Dean slept in the car, and they were on their way down the road. Sam's goal was a real hotel, one that would have more amenities. Forty-five minutes and one town later, he quickly checked them into a Comfort Suites hotel.

"Dean, hey, Dean." He tapped his brother on the shoulder. "We're here."

"Where, what?" Dean blinked hard several times. "Why are we here?"

"Bathtub."

"We're spending a hundred extra dollars and losing tactical advantage for a bathtub?" Dean scowled.

"Yep." Sam slid out, walked around the car and opened the passenger door. "Don't worry, I scoped it out when I took the bags inside. We'll go in the side door."

"We can't afford this, Sam, we're already low on cash," Dean protested, easing out of the car with his brother's help.

"We can this time," Sam said. He pulled Dean's arm over his shoulder. "Now come on, let's go."

Dean grumbled, his voice rumbling low as he hobbled beside Sam. The trip inside was slow, but remarkably they went unnoticed. Sam deposited his brother on chair just inside the door and stepped into the bathroom flicking on the heat lamp. He started the water running, reaching back for the Target bag he'd put on the counter. He poured a generous amount of Epsom salt into the filling tub before going back for his brother.

"Time to get in the tub," Sam said, hooking an arm under Dean's.

"I got it," Dean protested, swaying slightly.

"Uh-huh," Sam said, assisting his brother the final few steps. "Need help?"

"No," Dean said, quickly. "I _got _it."

"I'll trust you." Sam backed up a step watching to make sure Dean's equilibrium was good before leaving. "I'll get the scissors to cut off those bandages. You need to soak your leg, see if we can get it cleaned out."

"Yeah, okay," he said.

Sam left to get the scissors out of the medical kit and clean clothes for his brother. By the time he returned to the bathroom, Dean was stripped down to his boxers and he'd turned off the water. Sam crouched down, cutting the gauze from his brother's leg.

"It's stopped bleeding, that's good." Tossing the soiled bandages into the trash, Sam rose to standing. He circled his hand in the air, gesturing to Dean's chest. "Do you need help with those?"

"Nope." Dean jerked his chin towards the door. "Go."

"Going," Sam said. "If you need help getting out of the tub, holler."

"Go!"

Sam chuckled, leaving the bathroom and clicking the door shut behind him.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Dean relaxed in the warm bath, the salty water stinging the cuts on his chest and the wounds on his leg. He let the warmth ease the deep chill from his bones, relaxing for the first time in hours. He shifted, taking the pressure off his tailbone. "Man, I gotta remember to thank Sam for the tub later."

He must have drifted off to sleep because the next thing Dean knew Sam was knocking on the door. "Dean, you okay in there?"

"I'm good," Dean said, reaching for the towel. The water was definitely cold. "Getting out now."

"The food's here," Sam said by way of reply.

"Awesome."

It took more effort than he was ever going to admit to climb out of the tub, his muscles felt like lead. Slipping on t-shirt and boxers, he padded out to the main room. Sam looked up when he emerged and offered a huge smile, dimples sinking into his cheeks. "You look better."

"That's good, because I feel like crap," Dean groused. He flopped into the padded chair next to Sam. "Do I smell barbeque?"

"Spicy buffalo wings," Sam confirmed.

"Excellent." He reached for the box of takeout, snagging a plastic fork as he leaned back.

"How's the head?" Sam asked, his forehead curling with worry.

"I've had worse," Dean said, wincing. Oh yeah, he was totally not selling it to his brother. He could easily read the disbelief in the tight-lipped frown. "It hurts, okay?"

"Here," Sam said, handing him three ibuprofen. "They're fries in the bag, too."

"You're an awesome brother," Dean said around a mouthful of wings.

Although Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust, he smiled. "Dude, you're so easy."

"That's what she said." Dean smirked, grabbing a fistful of fries and shoving them into his mouth. He grinned wider when his younger brother rolled his eyes. There were days when nothing made him feel better than getting one over on Sam, even the times Dean suspected his brother allowed him to do it. He swallowed, washing down the pills with a gulp of soda. "Good call on the tub thing," he said.

"You should soak again in the morning," Sam said. "I'm going to hit the shower now."

"I'm going to eat my weight in wings and fries," Dean replied, waving a hand towards the bathroom to dismiss his brother.

"Just don't make yourself sick," Sam admonished, grabbing clothes as he headed for the shower. "I'll be out in ten."

"I'll be here."

True to his word, by the time Dean had polished off his food Sam had emerged from the bathroom, shaggy hair standing up all directions. He threw the wet towel around his neck hitting Dean in the face. "Hey!"

"I've been waiting five years to do that," Sam said. "You ready?"

"For what?"

"Bed. I need to dress that leg again."

"You're pushing it, Sam," Dean growled.

"I'll take my chances."

"You're such a mother hen." Dean grunted as Sam pulled him out of the chair.

"Learned from the best," Sam shot back, easing Dean to the bed. He stuffed a couple of pillows behind his brother's back.

"Remind me to beat that bossy streak out of you later," Dean said.

"Sure." He reached over to his bed, snagging a pillow and placing it under Dean's leg.

Dean sat quietly while Sam put antibiotic gel on his injuries. Gauze bandages finished the job before the sheet was pulled up. He watched while Sam puttered around the room throwing away the takeout containers and stuffing dirty clothes into the extra duffel. "There's a laundry room down the hall," Sam said. "I'll wash our stuff later."

"I'm good, Sam." Dean turned on the television. "You don't have to wait."

"Yeah, I know." Sam walked past him, snagging the remote from his grasp.

"Hey!"

"You're going to fall asleep in five minutes," Sam said, changing the channel to 'Man vs. Food.' "That means I own the remote."

"Whatever," Dean said, scooting down the bed. He curled around his pillow to watch the program. He felt, more than saw, Sam's gaze flick to him several times. "I'm fine, really."

"I know." As Dean fell asleep listening to the quiet drone of the television he could have sworn he heard his Sam whisper, "And I'll be here to make sure you are." He tried to protest, but all that came out was a grunt of acknowledgment and the answering click of the television turning off for the night.

_Fin_

………..……………………………………………**Supernatural**……………………………………………………..…….

AN: Once again, thank you to Nana56 for her generosity at the KazCon auction!


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